The Spark In Me
by SweetlyPsycotic
Summary: Shay is a 26 year old who has been with S.H.I.E.L.D ever since she was 17. When she was a child, she had somehow received the power to control fire; as a result her very religious family believed that she was dammed. After years of a strict, religious lifestyle, Shay was kicked after pushing her parents fear to the limit. That's where S.H.I.E.L.D came in.
1. Chapter 1

"Every breath I take is like flicking your thumb down on the ignition of a lighter. It sometimes will only take one go to light up; other times it takes a couple tries. I'm a loose cannon, a grenade that's had the stop pulled out. I could blow at any minute, and smash everything in my course."

My abilities were discovered by my parents. One day when I was five I had fallen down and scraped my knee. Being very sheltered as a child, this was one of the wost things that had happened to me at that age. I cried, and cried. My parents came rushing out, but when they touched me they quickly recoiled.

My skin was boiling. Touching me was like sticking your hand in an oven set at 450 degrees. My parents started to panic, and quickly ushered me into our house, and into the basement. I sat on the cool cement floors, with boiling tears streaming down my face, as my parents came rushing down with our family bible.

My parents were both extremely religious people, and believed that praying can solve the problem to anything. They believed that I was being taken over by the Devil, and then he was personally having my give off a fraction of Hell's heat from my body.

We sat there for hours, my cries turning into sobs, and loneliness seeping through me; as I desperately wanted to be hugged by my parents. Anytime I would attempt to near them, they would yell at me, and tell me to go sit where I had been. They didn't want me to interrupt their praying.

Finally, after what felt like forever, they had gotten up, and attempted to touch me. When they were finally able to they lifted me up, and brought me to the bathroom. There they stripped me down, and started scrubbing at my skin. I cried as they continued to scrub me until I was raw. They were attempting to physically cleanse me from my run in with the 'Devil'.

After the event, I was never treated the same. They were even stricter with me, and had me attend mass everyday. I had thought that it could never get worse, but then they had another child.

This child was loved greatly because that child, my brother, was not dammed like me. They told me on a regular occasion, that I was filled with evil, and needed to attend mass more often.

By the age of 12 I had become accustom of my daily duties, that my parents would force upon me, so that one day I would become 'clean'. They knew I still had the 'evil' in me since at times I would either accidentally melt my fork at the dinner table, or end of boiling my cup of water when I held it in my hand. Ever night I would go to the bathroom, and scrub my skin raw, everyday I would go to 8 o'clock mass, every day I lived life as an abomination.

My brother, Matthew, was praised in our family while I was looked down upon. He was given multiple florescent gifts for his birthday, while I was given only one; which normally consisted of either more holy water, or a wooden cross. He only had to go to mass on Sunday, and was able to attend with our parents; while I was sent to go alone every day.

When I turned 15, my life changed. It was the day of my birth which had ment more strictness than usual. I was forced to cleanse myself 3 times on my birthday, and I was forced to read specific sections of the bible; which my parents would pick out. I grew sad though when I saw my parent giving large, loving hugs to my brother, so I broke down.

Tears streamed down my face, and I let out a sob. The bible in my hand had burned, and soon enough, flames were formed on my hands. I started to hyperventilate upon seeing this, and tried my best to stop it. When I heard a strange crackle sound by my ear, my hand went up to my hair, only to find it had turned to flames.

My parents started to panic when they saw this. They immediately told me to go outside. Once I did, they took a hose and sprayed me down, stopping my flames. As I was walking up the stair to the porch, so I could go inside with them. The door was slammed in my face.

My parents look at me with fear in their eyes, as they yelled for me to leave their property.

"Demon child," They screamed at me.

I backed away from them slowly, and walked down the steps of my home. I looked back to see them slam the door, and heard the click of the locks being set in place.

I looked ahead at the road in front of my, and started to walk away. I was a monster to them.

I was a monster to myself.


	2. Chapter 2

I walked for what seemed to be hours, just aimlessly walking around trying to decide what to do. Being so sheltered and controlled I've never actually been outside of my home much.

Throughout the next months I went through trash for food, and drank water from lakes that I would pass by. I had lost a substantial amount of weight, causing my ribs to jab out, and my cheeks to sink in. Each day I had wished that someone would come and save me from this new life I had been living. It wouldn't be that easy though.

As the days went on, and I grew more desperate for food; I ended up resorting to stealing. It was against the religion I was forced to live by, not even a year ago; desperate times call for desperate measures.

The first time I ever stole something, it had been from a stand on the street. My eyes were glued to the bright red apples that were just screaming to be eaten. Before I knew what was going on, I had already brushed by the stand, and slipped an apple into my hand. I started running seconds later; afraid that someone had noticed.

When I had finally made it far enough away from the are, I looked down at the apple with hatred. Why should one have to steal food? It was a necessity to survive, yet we were forced to pay for it. With out money, then you couldn't eat. How horrible. I sunk my teeth into the bright fruit as I continued to walk down the streets, savoring the sweet taste. When finished with it, the sweetness became bitter to me.

Stealing started to become a casual occurrence for me. Whether it was for food or another scrap of clothing; I did it.

When passing my television stores I would look at them, and see the newest breaking news flash across the screen. They explained stories of thieves who were sent to prison for taking what is not theirs. My stomach would twist in knots when I saw them before I would turn and walk away quickly; feeling that if I stayed there too long someone would point me out as a thief.

The next two years were like that. Stealing to survive, on the streets most of the time trying to find a place that seemed fitting to possibly try to stay. I had been in Brooklyn, New York when my life changed, they had found me, and they knew about what I could do.

They told me they were S.H.I.E.L.D, and that I could either go with them, or they would have to police coming to arrect me on theft charges. The choice I saw fit was to go.

My first hours at S.H.I.E.L.D weren't very pleasant. I was brought in for examinations which consisted of me heating up to certain degrees, and then being blasted with a bruising force of water. It lasted for about four painstakingly long hours. After that days went by with me living in a metal room, being monitored 24/7.

Despite the constant surveillant, and checkups that I was forced to go through, it was a nice living. After living on the streets for a couple of years, getting edible, non-half eaten food from a kitchen, and not a dumpster, was heaven. Having a bed every night was amazing, and getting new, fresh clothing made me feel better than I have for a long time. Although the people I only associated with were pretty stern, I would have pretty good moment with them. I'd eat lunch with them at times, and when they had breaking, they'd even let me join in on their card games.

It was a life that I could deal with, but even with the ups I had my days where I would feel low, the days where I just wanted to disappear, after testing though, I know that it was almost impossible at the moment. When I hit 20, it was discovered, that as long as I kept retaining oxygen, the heat that was inside me would never go out. My flames only had an off switch external, but internally, I was basically lava. As long as the flame inside of me never went out, I could live for years and years. My flames basically ran on impulse aswell. If a bullet was shot at me, flames would go up instantly melting the bullets before they could even touch me. This power I had somehow had almost a mind of it's own. I would never have a total control over it, I could blow at anytime.

One day though, my life changed. I was needed for something bigger at S.H.I.E.L.D than just their human furnace.

"Sir, the Avengers are being collected and brought to the Helicarrier," Agent Coulson reported to Nick Fury.

"Coulson, I think we should bring her in," Fury replied as he held open a familiar file.

"Are you talking about who I think you're talking about?"

"She's just as strong as some of the men we're bringing in. Send her here.

"Yes sir."


End file.
